Namor X Reader - Tumblr Posts
The Feathered Serpent God: K’uk’ulkan Aesthetic Board
YOO WHERE MY NAMWHORES AT?!?!?!?
CEO! Namor/ Tenoch x Girlboss! Reader Aesthetic Board
Helloww everyoneee!!!! I’m back again with another CEO!Namor/ Tenoch moodboard. I can’t get enough of making one of these as I really enjoy creating them, especially the AU! tropes. There’s still more to come! So stick around for more AU! tropes 😉
Thank you so much if you still linger around for liking, reblogging and all that jazz. I’m sending you all lots and lots and lottssss of virtual hugs, kisses and lovesss
AU! Namor x Reader Aesthetic Board
Heyooo I’m back with another Namor moodboard. This one is for y’all thristy Namwhores out there 😝🤤I intentionally made this one with a slightly sensual nuance and it’s definitely hard to hit the spot. I’ll be back with another Tyler Galpin moodboard on my next post. Hope y’all find this as interesting as the others. ❤️🔥
has anyone ever written namor x filipino!reader,,, i just think its interesting for him to meet another ethnicity whose whole culture was demonized and burned by the spaniards HFJSHDJA
more ideas for filo!reader x namor!! i just think its neat for them to discuss the differences and similarities and culture....
also would namor be disappointed that our country essentially gave up and embraced the religion forced onto us? or would he be just as angry that we were called "indios" and "barbarians" by the spanish so we essentially just embraced christianity in hopes of mediating the suffering?
would he be just as angry as us to learn that essentially 85% of our original culture has been lost to the flames the spaniards caused? would he understand the way we filipinos look down on ourselves after so MANY years of colonization? weve essentially been colonized for more than 300+ years by different countries
so many questions and so much anger lets goooo
(also i would like to add that filipinos LOVEEE swimming so :DD)
more namor x filipino!reader brainrot lets goooo
not to sound patriotic or whatever but i really am one of those filipinos who feel an inexplicable amount of rage and frustration that so much of our art and literature were burned or even worse; used as cleaning stones for the feet of our colonizers causing irreperable damage to what little we had left so basically they took our 5% and halved it to 2% 😀
also how they regularly tortured, burned our houses, burned our cultures, and raped so many women yet called US FILIPINOS the barbarians.
i just want a filipino reader to just bottle up all this anger for their ancestors but then consequently blows up when namor keeps pushing them to feel the *anger* and *vengeance* bc hes namor,,,
and namor being namor fuels the fire even more and urges reader to embrace all of this and the reader has a dilemma of "the ones who killed my country are dead, yet their kin remains alive yet they have no blame in this" BOOM MORAL DILEMMA
also philippine mythology elements 👁👁 (atleast whats left of it...)
so much of our language has also borrowed words from spanish and that makes me so angry lmfao i wanna channel that so bad into this trope
and this can honestly still be seen today by how ppl use "filipinx" or "filipina" when filipino is alr a gender neutral term .
WE DONT EVEN HAVE THE LETTER "F" IN OUR ALPHABET WE'RE ACTUALLY CALLED PILIPINOS
more hcs and brainrot for namor x filipino!reader!!!
what if you called him "aking sinta"? (trans: my most cherished) or like "ang aking irog" (trans: my love/sweetheart) or just a random term of endearment like "mahal!" HSHAJDJAHD i get that he would DESPISEEE being called mi amor since its the language of the colonizers,
but since the language of the colonizers called him a "child without love", what if you used ur mother tongue to call him "my love"?
would he mayhaps melt at the thought?????? 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔
@cherryloaf JUST IMAGINE HIM BEING SURPRISED AND ASKING U WHAT IT MEANSSSS
more hcs and brainrot for namor x filipino!reader!!!
what if you called him "aking sinta"? (trans: my most cherished) or like "ang aking irog" (trans: my love/sweetheart) or just a random term of endearment like "mahal!" HSHAJDJAHD i get that he would DESPISEEE being called mi amor since its the language of the colonizers,
but since the language of the colonizers called him a "child without love", what if you used ur mother tongue to call him "my love"?
would he mayhaps melt at the thought?????? 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔
lmfao more brainrot for namor x filipino!reader bc i like feeding myself
but imagine namor seeing u in precolonial filipino wear??? AAAAAAAA AND THEN HE COMPLIMENTS THE "CRAFTSMANSHIP" AND HOW BEAUTIFUL IT LOOKS
also the robes differ from region to region so feel free to imagine which region it is!! tho i am visualizing a more precolonial visayan wear
"it escapes me on why your people have abandoned wearing your traditional garbs" "namor we were tortured and enslaved for more than 300 years" ".... i see. i apologise" HAHSHWHDHQHSAHS
IMAGINE HIM REMAKING SOME OF THE TRADITIONAL PRECOLONIAL CLOTHING U SHOWED HIM??? BRO???? LIKE HE REMAKES IT ALL WITH BETTER FABRIC BC "it was how it was intended to be made"
AND THEN HE ADDS HIS OWN CHARM AND SPINS TO IT LIKE ADDING JADE, VIBRANIUM, ETC AAAA
would u guys,,, perhaps be interested in a short namor x filipino!reader one shot/drabble?? 👀👀👀👀
a piece of your history.
Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader
Rating: Mature, Comedy (No smut but there is tension)
Summary: It hurts to not be able to properly recreate your traditional pre-colonial Filipino clothing, and Namor takes notice of this feeling of yours.
Word Count: 2,578
Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization
Disclaimer: Namor is kind of cold and dark towards reader!! Idk if its ooc but i would imagine that he would generally be apprehensive towards a surface dweller. you have been warned
___________
Reminder: This fic is part of a Namor x Filipino!Reader miniseries, but can be read on its own! Miniseries fic(s):
a piece of your history. / "beloved."
__________
“Do you like it?”
You asked, grinning, slightly turning yourself around in order to fully show off your work proudly.
Namor hummed, sitting in the water by the shore of the beach. He was always like this, meeting up with you now and again.
“Is this the wear of your people?” He asked. You grinned and nodded, letting out small chuckles while fiddling with the fabric between your fingers. You had always wanted to make the Pre-Colonial traditional clothing of your Filipino ancestors, it was the closest thing you had of home as of now.
The process was tedious, you admit that. So little resources or references online on how your specific region’s clothing looked– much less how it was made, due to how much the Spaniards burned and banned, but you had still managed to gather enough to make one as accurately as possible.
“It’s… beautiful.” He simply says, eyeing up the clothes and how it wrapped around your body, causing you to tear your eyes away from him in fear of showing how his compliment affected you in such a way.
“Why have your people stopped wearing this? Are they not your traditional wear?” Namor asked, remembering the photos of your family that you had shown him. They were wearing what you had called a “baro’t saya” and “barong” for the celebration of “Buwan ng Wika” as he recalled it.
“It’s gorgeous, and made by the hands of your people instead of the colonizers.” He continued, “It escapes me on why your people have abandoned wearing your traditional garbs, instead choosing to wear what they gave you.” This statement slightly irked you, causing you to deadpan at him.
“Dude, we were enslaved and tortured by them for more than 300 years.” You crossed your arms. “Do you think we abandoned it willingly?” You were met with silence, and for once, Namor was the one who was left speechless by bluntness.
“... Right. My apologies.” Was all Namor could reply, causing you to let out a small laugh, shaking your head. It’s not often you’re the one leaving him silent, with him often bashing “surface dwellers”, causing you to regularly remind him that you yourself are a surface dweller.
Namor never had a proper reply for that.
However, even if you were happy with your work, you still frowned and sighed. You dragged your fingers along the cloth, wistfully looking at its patterns. Namor’s eyes followed the way your face curled up to a grimace, causing him to frown even more (if that was even possible) in confusion.
“It’s not much, though. The fabric’s sorta cheap ‘cause it was the only one I could find that had this specific pattern. I had to pick between comfortability or accuracy.” You sulked, sitting down on the dry sand close to him. You hugged your knees close to your chest, already itchy from the scratchy inside of the fabric.
“I chose accuracy, of course… for them.” You vaguely finished, slightly bitter on how hard it was to make your country’s real traditional clothing in an authentic way. You palmed the sand, looking for your bag before taking out your trusty cellphone.
Ah, surface dwellers and their hand-held yet fragile technologies… Namor thought as you typed and scrolled away at your phone.
“I mean, look at this!” You held your phone out, showing what appeared to be a real life replica of your garbs, just made in a better way. Namor narrowed his eyes in confusion.
“So your people still make this?”
“Well technically yes, but no? God, I wish, though. This is just a historical costume for entertainment…” You replied, huffing.
“Tangina talaga ng Espanya…” You grumbled under your breath. Namor chuckled at you, as he had heard you swear in your mother tongue (he was sure it was a swear– it was literally the first word you had taught him) at one of your country’s past colonizers.
“Jay, ba'ax jaaj le je'elo'...” He replied, agreeing, though this did cause your face to slightly feel warmer. You would never admit it to his face, but him speaking his native language was kinda hot.
You let out a small chuckle, before wistfully sighing and looking at the sky.
“You know… I’m kinda jealous of you and your people of Talokan.” Namor rose an eyebrow at you, his head turning to look at you. You put your hands up in mock defense, clearly meaning well.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way! And yeah, you guys have faced struggles with water pollution, junk and also colonizer stuff… It’s just… y’know…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling bashful. Namor’s gaze softened, as he nodded to indicate that you continue. You breathed in deeply.
“Well, I mean, you guys got to keep your culture intact, no outside forces ripping it away from you.” You mumbled, picking at the sand that got between your nails.
“No forgotten gods… no forgotten stories… no forgotten practices.” You longingly looked at the sea.
You snorted, though. “Even if they tried, you could still put up a fight and protect it.” You smiled at him, causing him to avert his gaze and look back at the ocean.
“I just… I just wish I could salvage at least a small part of it.” You finished, already feeling your throat close up and tears form in your eyes. God, why did you have to be so emotional? Putangina naman…
For a beat or two, Namor stayed quiet. You already felt dread setting in your stomach, oh god. What if he had another diva moment and dove back in the water? Before you could panic even more, you heard the water move, as water droplets seem to fall from sky and onto you. You looked up in confusion, squinting your eyes at Namor, who had stood up from his place to sit closer to you.
“... May I see more of these garbs?”
Your frown was replaced with a smile, as you swallowed back the lump and blinked away the oncoming tears. “Sure! I have so many saved and printed– it’s important to have references before crafting, after all!”
Your signature grin was back as you happily took out what looked to be a plastic bag containing pictures that looked similar to your clothes. You happily explained away, showing him more and more photos– though he did notice that you had backed up a bit when he came a bit too close to your personal space.
He followed along as you showed more and more photos– along with more pictures of Pre-Colonial jewelry that you wanted to replicate yourself. He noticed the way you would stop and longingly gaze at them, before continuing on with explaining.
Namor watched the way your eyes would brighten as you talked more and more about your history, before they would dim as you brought up on why it was not used by your people in the modern day anymore.
“... And yeah, that’s pretty much what my own region wears! Though, it does get a bit tricky to see if it really is my region per say,” Namor looked at you, a bit confused but waiting for you to continue. Your smile grew wider.
“All regions basically have a lot of similarities and differences! So sometimes it gets a bit confusing.” You rambled, before noticing yourself and getting a bit embarrassed. Namor softly smiled at you.
“This just shows how rich the cultures of your people are, in etail.”
You blinked before letting out a joyous laugh, surprised that Namor of all people complimented you! (Well, to be more precise, your heritage). You were about to reply before your eyes caught sight of the time on your phone. “Ay gago! Ang late na pala! I still have to call my parents!” You put on your coat over your work, before shoving your phone back in your bag.
Before you could properly stand up, a hand on your wrist stopped you. Your brain loaded for a few seconds, your eyes following the hand and how it trailed back to Namor. “Come back here in two days time.” He asked (more of demanded).
You gawked at him, this was the first time he ever confirmed that you were going to see him! Most of the time, he simply came and went as he pleased. The look in his eyes already made it impossible to say no, so of course refusing him was not an option.
“I-I…” You stammered, meeting his eyes that had so much emotion in them. You gulped. “Okay! See you in… two days, dude!” You quickly went on your way home.
Namor nodded at you, before he caught sight of the familiar plastic ziplock you had left behind. Before he could call out to you, you were already too far away, and if he were to approach you someone would surely see him.
Namor watched your back fade from the distance, already confirming the idea forming in his head. He nodded to himself, before grabbing the ziplock bag and diving back into the sea, making sure to not let anything get wet.
__________
You practically ran towards the beach as you grinned, excited that your.. Friend(?) or Frenemy(?) personally requested your presence. You cleared your throat and attempted to act cool, though severely failing, before sitting down by the drier parts of the sand, admiring how beautiful the waves looked.
A few moments later, a familiar head peeped out from the water, causing you to laugh and wave at him. Namor uncharacteristically bore a grin at you, continuing to get out of water, the droplets from his hair magically disappearing with each step.
“I have a surprise for you.” was the first thing he said as he offered you a hand in getting up. You nodded, though a bit confused now.
In his hands, you had finally taken notice of a makeshift waterproof bag tied by a drawstring along with a familiar plastic ziplock of papers. “Ay, onga pala! I accidentally left my papers…” You exclaimed, surprised that he kept them in such good condition.
Namor gingerly handed you the drawstring bag first, urging you to open it. “Please, have a look inside.” You hesitantly took it in your hands, noting the way the fabric practically had gold woven into it.
What you saw took your breath away,
it was Pre-Colonial indigenous Filipino clothes.
You ran a hand through them, the fabric being silky yet cool to the touch. Just as how Filipino clothes were theorized to be. Somehow, Namor had found a way to wove it with gold, just as what your research had said. You felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes, it felt like a piece of history was being given back to you.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Namor’s voice snapped you out of your stupor. You looked back at him, open-mouthed and too shocked to reply. He chuckled at you. “Try it on, in etail.”
Namor politely turned around, silently trying to hide and bury the way he felt when he heard fabric shifting and the likely assumption of you undressing.
Your breath hitched as the feeling of the fabric against your skin was a comfortable one. It was perfectly tailored and made for you, as if someone had memorized every inch of your body down to the smallest details, the robes fitting like a glove on your body.
“You can look now…” You managed to practically croak out, forever feeling thankful at such a kind gesture from no one other than Namor himself.
The moment Namor turned around, he swore that he felt slightly lightheaded from how you managed to take his breath away with just your look. You looked like you were in your natural element, your most natural state.
It almost felt as if this was how you were supposed to be.
The way the gold-woven fabric hung off your own copper skin had him thinking of thoughts he swore he would never have of surface-dwellers, and perhaps the most euphoric feeling was seeing the look on your face; the genuine joy and happiness.
But wait, something was missing.
He narrowed his eyes at you before rummaging through the bag he carried with him. Namor gently brought out familiar looking jewelry, though with its own twist.
“These… are also for you.”
Namor took your hand and placed it in his, slipping on a rather detailed and delicately made golden ring. He took both of your wrists and placed on them gold bracelets adorned with what appeared to be a jade material.
All the while, he made direct eye contact with you. You practically shook under his gaze, deeming it to be too intimate.
Before you could process anything more, you felt the heat of Namor’s body behind your back, as you heard gold clinking together. His hot breath fanned on the back of your neck, as the heat in your ears never seemed to go away.
You felt a heavy weighted necklace be placed onto your collarbone, before a click behind you was resounded. Namor’s hands lingered for a split second on the nape of your neck, before he practically ripped himself away and stood back, afraid of his own actions.
Your breath left your body for what felt like the nth time in the past 30 minutes, as you took the necklace between your fingers and observed the intricate designs of gold and jade beautifully fused together.
All of this jewelry should have felt heavy, but to you they felt as if they were perfectly crafted and made for you and your people. It was as if these were all made with heavy and careful detail, making sure that they perfectly aligned with your own practices but still with its own twist and charm from the gifter.
You could never take back what the Spaniards have taken from your country, but it felt like a lost piece of your own heritage was being directly gifted to you, you could practically feel the pride of your ancestors. This was all so overwhelming.
“K'uk'ulkan…”
Namor suppressed the heat he felt as his natural name rolled off your tongue in such a breathless manner.
Now, it was your turn to surprise as he did not anticipate that you would tackle him in a hug. You buried your face in his neck, not scared anymore of what he’d do. Namor’s own hands hesitantly placed themselves on your backside, before they tightened around you.
“Salamat… Salamat talaga, K'uk'ulkan…” Namor felt hot wet tears drip onto his shoulder.
He hugged back even tighter.
“Mixba’al, in etail.”
__________
BONUS:
“Okay, now ‘putangina mo’ means I like you.” You said to Namor, though the way you tried to (and failed) to hold back your laughter made him doubt that that was the meaning of the phrase.
“Is it really now?” You laughed, nodding profusely. “Hell yeah it is! We Pinoys use it all the time to compliment each other! Like, ‘putangina mo tol, ang guwapo mo nakakabakla ka na!’ ”
“ ‘Nakakabakla’?” Namor narrowed his eyes at you. Were you just messing with him? You laughed even more, clutching your sides by how much it hurt.
“Gaga, uto-uto ka talaga.”
Namor had a deep feeling in his stomach that you were insulting him (he was right) so he stood up and sighed, walking back towards the sea.
“What the-! Hey! Where are you going?!”
“K'a' ak'ate.”
“Aw c’mon K'uk'ulkan! Can’t you take a joke?!”
He was already gone by the time you had said that.
tags: @avaleineandafryingpan @queenotaku23 @cherryloaf
a piece of your history.
Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader
Rating: Mature, Comedy (No smut but there is tension)
Summary: It hurts to not be able to properly recreate your traditional pre-colonial Filipino clothing, and Namor takes notice of this feeling of yours.
Word Count: 2,578
Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization
Disclaimer: Namor is kind of cold and dark towards reader!! Idk if its ooc but i would imagine that he would generally be apprehensive towards a surface dweller. you have been warned
__________
“Do you like it?”
You asked, grinning, slightly turning yourself around in order to fully show off your work proudly.
Namor hummed, sitting in the water by the shore of the beach. He was always like this, meeting up with you now and again.
“Is this the wear of your people?” He asked. You grinned and nodded, letting out small chuckles while fiddling with the fabric between your fingers. You had always wanted to make the Pre-Colonial traditional clothing of your Filipino ancestors, it was the closest thing you had of home as of now.
The process was tedious, you admit that. So little resources or references online on how your specific region’s clothing looked– much less how it was made, due to how much the Spaniards burned and banned, but you had still managed to gather enough to make one as accurately as possible.
“It’s… beautiful.” He simply says, eyeing up the clothes and how it wrapped around your body, causing you to tear your eyes away from him in fear of showing how his compliment affected you in such a way.
“Why have your people stopped wearing this? Are they not your traditional wear?” Namor asked, remembering the photos of your family that you had shown him. They were wearing what you had called a “baro’t saya” and “barong” for the celebration of “Buwan ng Wika” as he recalled it.
“It’s gorgeous, and made by the hands of your people instead of the colonizers.” He continued, “It escapes me on why your people have abandoned wearing your traditional garbs, instead choosing to wear what they gave you.” This statement slightly irked you, causing you to deadpan at him.
“Dude, we were enslaved and tortured by them for more than 300 years.” You crossed your arms. “Do you think we abandoned it willingly?” You were met with silence, and for once, Namor was the one who was left speechless by bluntness.
“... Right. My apologies.” Was all Namor could reply, causing you to let out a small laugh, shaking your head. It’s not often you’re the one leaving him silent, with him often bashing “surface dwellers”, causing you to regularly remind him that you yourself are a surface dweller.
Namor never had a proper reply for that.
However, even if you were happy with your work, you still frowned and sighed. You dragged your fingers along the cloth, wistfully looking at its patterns. Namor’s eyes followed the way your face curled up to a grimace, causing him to frown even more (if that was even possible) in confusion.
“It’s not much, though. The fabric’s sorta cheap ‘cause it was the only one I could find that had this specific pattern. I had to pick between comfortability or accuracy.” You sulked, sitting down on the dry sand close to him. You hugged your knees close to your chest, already itchy from the scratchy inside of the fabric.
“I chose accuracy, of course… for them.” You vaguely finished, slightly bitter on how hard it was to make your country’s real traditional clothing in an authentic way. You palmed the sand, looking for your bag before taking out your trusty cellphone.
Ah, surface dwellers and their hand-held yet fragile technologies… Namor thought as you typed and scrolled away at your phone.
“I mean, look at this!” You held your phone out, showing what appeared to be a real life replica of your garbs, just made in a better way. Namor narrowed his eyes in confusion.
“So your people still make this?”
“Well technically yes, but no? God, I wish, though. This is just a historical costume for entertainment…” You replied, huffing.
“Tangina talaga ng Espanya…” You grumbled under your breath. Namor chuckled at you, as he had heard you swear in your mother tongue (he was sure it was a swear– it was literally the first word you had taught him) at one of your country’s past colonizers.
“Jay, ba'ax jaaj le je'elo'...” He replied, agreeing, though this did cause your face to slightly feel warmer. You would never admit it to his face, but him speaking his native language was kinda hot.
You let out a small chuckle, before wistfully sighing and looking at the sky.
“You know… I’m kinda jealous of you and your people.” Namor rose an eyebrow at you, his head turning to look at you. You put your hands up in mock defense, clearly meaning well.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way! And yeah, you guys have faced struggles with pollution, junk and also colonizer stuff… It’s just… y’know…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling bashful. Namor’s gaze softened, as he nodded to indicate that you continue. You breathed in deeply.
“Well, I mean, you guys got to keep your culture intact, no outside forces ripping it away from you.” You mumbled, picking at the sand that got between your nails.
“No forgotten gods… no forgotten stories… no forgotten practices.” You longingly looked at the sea.
You snorted, though. “Even if they tried, you could still put up a fight and protect it.” You smiled at him, causing him to avert his gaze and look back at the ocean.
“I just… I just wish I could salvage at least a small part of it.” You finished, already feeling your throat close up and tears form in your eyes. God, why did you have to be so emotional? Putangina naman…
For a beat or two, Namor stayed quiet. You already felt dread setting in your stomach, oh god. What if he had another diva moment and dove back in the water? Before you could panic even more, you heard the water move, as water droplets seem to fall from sky and onto you. You looked up in confusion, squinting your eyes at Namor, who had stood up from his place to sit closer to you.
“... May I see more of these garbs?”
Your frown was replaced with a smile, as you swallowed back the lump and blinked away the oncoming tears. “Sure! I have so many saved and printed– it’s important to have references before crafting, after all!”
Your signature grin was back as you happily took out what looked to be a plastic bag containing pictures that looked similar to your clothes. You happily explained away, showing him more and more photos– though he did notice that you had backed up a bit when he came a bit too close to your personal space.
He followed along as you showed more and more photos– along with more pictures of Pre-Colonial jewelry that you wanted to replicate yourself. He noticed the way you would stop and longingly gaze at them, before continuing on with explaining.
Namor watched the way your eyes would brighten as you talked more and more about your history, before they would dim as you brought up on why it was not used by your people in the modern day anymore.
“... And yeah, that’s pretty much what my own region wears! Though, it does get a bit tricky to see if it really is my region per say,” Namor looked at you, a bit confused but waiting for you to continue. Your smile grew wider.
“All regions basically have a lot of similarities and differences! So sometimes it gets a bit confusing.” You rambled, before noticing yourself and getting a bit embarrassed. Namor softly smiled at you.
“This just shows how rich the cultures of your people are, in etail.”
You blinked before letting out a joyous laugh, surprised that Namor of all people complimented you! (Well, to be more precise, your heritage). You were about to reply before your eyes caught sight of the time on your phone. “Ay gago! Ang late na pala! I still have to call my parents!” You put on your coat over your work, before shoving your phone back in your bag.
Before you could properly stand up, a hand on your wrist stopped you. Your brain loaded for a few seconds, your eyes following the hand and how it trailed back to Namor. “Come back here in two days time.” He asked (more of demanded).
You gawked at him, this was the first time he ever confirmed that you were going to see him! Most of the time, he simply came and went as he pleased. The look in his eyes already made it impossible to say no, so of course refusing him was not an option.
“I-I…” You stammered, meeting his eyes that had so much emotion in them. You gulped. “Okay! See you in… two days, dude!” You quickly went on your way home.
Namor nodded at you, before he caught sight of the familiar plastic ziplock you had left behind. Before he could call out to you, you were already too far away, and if he were to approach you someone would surely see him.
Namor watched your back fade from the distance, already confirming the idea forming in his head. He nodded to himself, before grabbing the ziplock bag and diving back into the sea, making sure to not let anything get wet.
__________
You practically ran towards the beach as you grinned, excited that your.. Friend(?) or Frenemy(?) personally requested your presence. You cleared your throat and attempted to act cool, though severely failing, before sitting down by the drier parts of the sand, admiring how beautiful the waves looked.
A few moments later, a familiar head peeped out from the water, causing you to laugh and wave at him. Namor uncharacteristically bore a grin at you, continuing to get out of water, the droplets from his hair magically disappearing with each step.
“I have a surprise for you.” was the first thing he said as he offered you a hand in getting up. You nodded, though a bit confused now.
In his hands, you had finally taken notice of a makeshift waterproof bag tied by a drawstring along with a familiar plastic ziplock of papers. “Ay, onga pala! I accidentally left my papers…” You exclaimed, surprised that he kept them in such good condition.
Namor gingerly handed you the drawstring bag first, urging you to open it. “Please, have a look inside.” You hesitantly took it in your hands, noting the way the fabric practically had gold woven into it.
What you saw took your breath away,
it was Pre-Colonial indigenous Filipino clothes!
You ran a hand through them, the fabric being silky yet cool to the touch. Just as how Filipino clothes were theorized to be. Somehow, Namor had found a way to wove it with gold, just as what your research had said. You felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes, it felt like a piece of history was being given back to you.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Namor’s voice snapped you out of your stupor. You looked back at him, open-mouthed and too shocked to reply. He chuckled at you. “Try it on, in etail.”
Namor politely turned around, silently trying to hide and bury the way he felt when he heard fabric shifting and the likely assumption of you undressing.
Your breath hitched as the feeling of the fabric against your skin was a comfortable one. It was perfectly tailored and made for you, as if someone had memorized every inch of your body down to the smallest details, the robes fitting like a glove on your body.
“You can look now…” You managed to practically croak out, forever feeling thankful at such a kind gesture from no one other than Namor himself.
The moment Namor turned around, he swore that he felt slightly lightheaded from how you managed to take his breath away with just your look. You looked like you were in your natural element, your most natural state.
It almost felt as if this was how you were supposed to be.
The way the gold-woven fabric hung off your own copper skin had him thinking of thoughts he swore he would never have of surface-dwellers, and perhaps the most euphoric feeling was seeing the look on your face; the genuine joy and happiness.
But wait, something was missing.
He narrowed his eyes at you before rummaging through the bag he carried with him. Namor gently brought out familiar looking jewelry, though with its own twist.
“These… are also for you.”
Namor took your hand and placed it in his, slipping on a rather detailed and delicately made golden ring. He took both of your wrists and placed on them gold bracelets adorned with what appeared to be a jade material.
All the while, he made direct eye contact with you. You practically shook under his gaze, deeming it to be too intimate.
Before you could process anything more, you felt the heat of Namor’s body behind your back, as you heard gold clinking together. His hot breath fanned on the back of your neck, as the heat in your ears never seemed to go away.
You felt a heavy weighted necklace be placed onto your collarbone, before a click behind you was resounded. Namor’s hands lingered for a split second on the nape of your neck, before he practically ripped himself away and stood back, afraid of his own actions.
Your breath left your body for what felt like the nth time in the past 30 minutes, as you took the necklace between your fingers and observed the intricate designs of gold and jade beautifully fused together.
All of this jewelry should have felt heavy, but to you they felt as if they were perfectly crafted and made for you and your people. It was as if these were all made with heavy and careful detail, making sure that they perfectly aligned with your own practices but still with its own twist and charm from the gifter.
You could never take back what the Spaniards have taken from your country, but it felt like a lost piece of your own heritage was being directly gifted to you, you could practically feel the pride of your ancestors. This was all so overwhelming.
“K'uk'ulkan…”
Namor suppressed the heat he felt as his natural name rolled off your tongue in such a breathless manner.
Now, it was your turn to surprise as he did not anticipate that you would tackle him in a hug. You buried your face in his neck, not scared anymore of what he’d do. Namor’s own hands hesitantly placed themselves on your backside, before they tightened around you.
“Salamat… Salamat talaga, K'uk'ulkan…” Namor felt hot wet tears drip onto his shoulder.
He hugged back even tighter.
“Mixba’al, in etail.”
__________
BONUS:
“Okay, now ‘putangina mo’ means I like you.” You said to Namor, though the way you tried to (and failed) to hold back your laughter made him doubt that that was the meaning of the phrase.
“Is it really now?” You laughed, nodding profusely. “Hell yeah it is! We Pinoys use it all the time to compliment each other! Like, ‘putangina mo tol, ang guwapo mo nakakabakla ka na!’ ”
“ ‘Nakakabakla’?” Namor narrowed his eyes at you. Were you just messing with him? You laughed even more, clutching your sides by how much it hurt.
“Gaga, uto-uto ka talaga.”
Namor had a deep feeling in his stomach that you were insulting him (he was right) so he stood up and sighed, walking back towards the sea.
“What the-! Hey! Where are you going?!”
“K'a' ak'ate.”
“Aw c’mon K'uk'ulkan! Can’t you take a joke?!”
He was already gone by the time you had said that.
a piece of your history.
Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader
Rating: Mature, Comedy (No smut but there is tension)
Summary: It hurts to not be able to properly recreate your traditional pre-colonial Filipino clothing, and Namor takes notice of this feeling of yours.
Word Count: 2,578
Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization
Disclaimer: Namor is kind of cold and dark towards reader!! Idk if its ooc but i would imagine that he would generally be apprehensive towards a surface dweller. you have been warned
__________
“Do you like it?”
You asked, grinning, slightly turning yourself around in order to fully show off your work proudly.
Namor hummed, sitting in the water by the shore of the beach. He was always like this, meeting up with you now and again.
“Is this the wear of your people?” He asked. You grinned and nodded, letting out small chuckles while fiddling with the fabric between your fingers. You had always wanted to make the Pre-Colonial traditional clothing of your Filipino ancestors, it was the closest thing you had of home as of now.
The process was tedious, you admit that. So little resources or references online on how your specific region’s clothing looked– much less how it was made, due to how much the Spaniards burned and banned, but you had still managed to gather enough to make one as accurately as possible.
“It’s… beautiful.” He simply says, eyeing up the clothes and how it wrapped around your body, causing you to tear your eyes away from him in fear of showing how his compliment affected you in such a way.
“Why have your people stopped wearing this? Are they not your traditional wear?” Namor asked, remembering the photos of your family that you had shown him. They were wearing what you had called a “baro’t saya” and “barong” for the celebration of “Buwan ng Wika” as he recalled it.
“It’s gorgeous, and made by the hands of your people instead of the colonizers.” He continued, “It escapes me on why your people have abandoned wearing your traditional garbs, instead choosing to wear what they gave you.” This statement slightly irked you, causing you to deadpan at him.
“Dude, we were enslaved and tortured by them for more than 300 years.” You crossed your arms. “Do you think we abandoned it willingly?” You were met with silence, and for once, Namor was the one who was left speechless by bluntness.
“... Right. My apologies.” Was all Namor could reply, causing you to let out a small laugh, shaking your head. It’s not often you’re the one leaving him silent, with him often bashing “surface dwellers”, causing you to regularly remind him that you yourself are a surface dweller.
Namor never had a proper reply for that.
However, even if you were happy with your work, you still frowned and sighed. You dragged your fingers along the cloth, wistfully looking at its patterns. Namor’s eyes followed the way your face curled up to a grimace, causing him to frown even more (if that was even possible) in confusion.
“It’s not much, though. The fabric’s sorta cheap ‘cause it was the only one I could find that had this specific pattern. I had to pick between comfortability or accuracy.” You sulked, sitting down on the dry sand close to him. You hugged your knees close to your chest, already itchy from the scratchy inside of the fabric.
“I chose accuracy, of course… for them.” You vaguely finished, slightly bitter on how hard it was to make your country’s real traditional clothing in an authentic way. You palmed the sand, looking for your bag before taking out your trusty cellphone.
Ah, surface dwellers and their hand-held yet fragile technologies… Namor thought as you typed and scrolled away at your phone.
“I mean, look at this!” You held your phone out, showing what appeared to be a real life replica of your garbs, just made in a better way. Namor narrowed his eyes in confusion.
“So your people still make this?”
“Well technically yes, but no? God, I wish, though. This is just a historical costume for entertainment…” You replied, huffing.
“Tangina talaga ng Espanya…” You grumbled under your breath. Namor chuckled at you, as he had heard you swear in your mother tongue (he was sure it was a swear– it was literally the first word you had taught him) at one of your country’s past colonizers.
“Jay, ba'ax jaaj le je'elo'...” He replied, agreeing, though this did cause your face to slightly feel warmer. You would never admit it to his face, but him speaking his native language was kinda hot.
You let out a small chuckle, before wistfully sighing and looking at the sky.
“You know… I’m kinda jealous of you and your people.” Namor rose an eyebrow at you, his head turning to look at you. You put your hands up in mock defense, clearly meaning well.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way! And yeah, you guys have faced struggles with pollution, junk and also colonizer stuff… It’s just… y’know…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling bashful. Namor’s gaze softened, as he nodded to indicate that you continue. You breathed in deeply.
“Well, I mean, you guys got to keep your culture intact, no outside forces ripping it away from you.” You mumbled, picking at the sand that got between your nails.
“No forgotten gods… no forgotten stories… no forgotten practices.” You longingly looked at the sea.
You snorted, though. “Even if they tried, you could still put up a fight and protect it.” You smiled at him, causing him to avert his gaze and look back at the ocean.
“I just… I just wish I could salvage at least a small part of it.” You finished, already feeling your throat close up and tears form in your eyes. God, why did you have to be so emotional? Putangina naman…
For a beat or two, Namor stayed quiet. You already felt dread setting in your stomach, oh god. What if he had another diva moment and dove back in the water? Before you could panic even more, you heard the water move, as water droplets seem to fall from sky and onto you. You looked up in confusion, squinting your eyes at Namor, who had stood up from his place to sit closer to you.
“... May I see more of these garbs?”
Your frown was replaced with a smile, as you swallowed back the lump and blinked away the oncoming tears. “Sure! I have so many saved and printed– it’s important to have references before crafting, after all!”
Your signature grin was back as you happily took out what looked to be a plastic bag containing pictures that looked similar to your clothes. You happily explained away, showing him more and more photos– though he did notice that you had backed up a bit when he came a bit too close to your personal space.
He followed along as you showed more and more photos– along with more pictures of Pre-Colonial jewelry that you wanted to replicate yourself. He noticed the way you would stop and longingly gaze at them, before continuing on with explaining.
Namor watched the way your eyes would brighten as you talked more and more about your history, before they would dim as you brought up on why it was not used by your people in the modern day anymore.
“... And yeah, that’s pretty much what my own region wears! Though, it does get a bit tricky to see if it really is my region per say,” Namor looked at you, a bit confused but waiting for you to continue. Your smile grew wider.
“All regions basically have a lot of similarities and differences! So sometimes it gets a bit confusing.” You rambled, before noticing yourself and getting a bit embarrassed. Namor softly smiled at you.
“This just shows how rich the cultures of your people are, in etail.”
You blinked before letting out a joyous laugh, surprised that Namor of all people complimented you! (Well, to be more precise, your heritage). You were about to reply before your eyes caught sight of the time on your phone. “Ay gago! Ang late na pala! I still have to call my parents!” You put on your coat over your work, before shoving your phone back in your bag.
Before you could properly stand up, a hand on your wrist stopped you. Your brain loaded for a few seconds, your eyes following the hand and how it trailed back to Namor. “Come back here in two days time.” He asked (more of demanded).
You gawked at him, this was the first time he ever confirmed that you were going to see him! Most of the time, he simply came and went as he pleased. The look in his eyes already made it impossible to say no, so of course refusing him was not an option.
“I-I…” You stammered, meeting his eyes that had so much emotion in them. You gulped. “Okay! See you in… two days, dude!” You quickly went on your way home.
Namor nodded at you, before he caught sight of the familiar plastic ziplock you had left behind. Before he could call out to you, you were already too far away, and if he were to approach you someone would surely see him.
Namor watched your back fade from the distance, already confirming the idea forming in his head. He nodded to himself, before grabbing the ziplock bag and diving back into the sea, making sure to not let anything get wet.
__________
You practically ran towards the beach as you grinned, excited that your.. Friend(?) or Frenemy(?) personally requested your presence. You cleared your throat and attempted to act cool, though severely failing, before sitting down by the drier parts of the sand, admiring how beautiful the waves looked.
A few moments later, a familiar head peeped out from the water, causing you to laugh and wave at him. Namor uncharacteristically bore a grin at you, continuing to get out of water, the droplets from his hair magically disappearing with each step.
“I have a surprise for you.” was the first thing he said as he offered you a hand in getting up. You nodded, though a bit confused now.
In his hands, you had finally taken notice of a makeshift waterproof bag tied by a drawstring along with a familiar plastic ziplock of papers. “Ay, onga pala! I accidentally left my papers…” You exclaimed, surprised that he kept them in such good condition.
Namor gingerly handed you the drawstring bag first, urging you to open it. “Please, have a look inside.” You hesitantly took it in your hands, noting the way the fabric practically had gold woven into it.
What you saw took your breath away,
it was Pre-Colonial indigenous Filipino clothes!
You ran a hand through them, the fabric being silky yet cool to the touch. Just as how Filipino clothes were theorized to be. Somehow, Namor had found a way to wove it with gold, just as what your research had said. You felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes, it felt like a piece of history was being given back to you.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Namor’s voice snapped you out of your stupor. You looked back at him, open-mouthed and too shocked to reply. He chuckled at you. “Try it on, in etail.”
Namor politely turned around, silently trying to hide and bury the way he felt when he heard fabric shifting and the likely assumption of you undressing.
Your breath hitched as the feeling of the fabric against your skin was a comfortable one. It was perfectly tailored and made for you, as if someone had memorized every inch of your body down to the smallest details, the robes fitting like a glove on your body.
“You can look now…” You managed to practically croak out, forever feeling thankful at such a kind gesture from no one other than Namor himself.
The moment Namor turned around, he swore that he felt slightly lightheaded from how you managed to take his breath away with just your look. You looked like you were in your natural element, your most natural state.
It almost felt as if this was how you were supposed to be.
The way the gold-woven fabric hung off your own copper skin had him thinking of thoughts he swore he would never have of surface-dwellers, and perhaps the most euphoric feeling was seeing the look on your face; the genuine joy and happiness.
But wait, something was missing.
He narrowed his eyes at you before rummaging through the bag he carried with him. Namor gently brought out familiar looking jewelry, though with its own twist.
“These… are also for you.”
Namor took your hand and placed it in his, slipping on a rather detailed and delicately made golden ring. He took both of your wrists and placed on them gold bracelets adorned with what appeared to be a jade material.
All the while, he made direct eye contact with you. You practically shook under his gaze, deeming it to be too intimate.
Before you could process anything more, you felt the heat of Namor’s body behind your back, as you heard gold clinking together. His hot breath fanned on the back of your neck, as the heat in your ears never seemed to go away.
You felt a heavy weighted necklace be placed onto your collarbone, before a click behind you was resounded. Namor’s hands lingered for a split second on the nape of your neck, before he practically ripped himself away and stood back, afraid of his own actions.
Your breath left your body for what felt like the nth time in the past 30 minutes, as you took the necklace between your fingers and observed the intricate designs of gold and jade beautifully fused together.
All of this jewelry should have felt heavy, but to you they felt as if they were perfectly crafted and made for you and your people. It was as if these were all made with heavy and careful detail, making sure that they perfectly aligned with your own practices but still with its own twist and charm from the gifter.
You could never take back what the Spaniards have taken from your country, but it felt like a lost piece of your own heritage was being directly gifted to you, you could practically feel the pride of your ancestors. This was all so overwhelming.
“K'uk'ulkan…”
Namor suppressed the heat he felt as his natural name rolled off your tongue in such a breathless manner.
Now, it was your turn to surprise as he did not anticipate that you would tackle him in a hug. You buried your face in his neck, not scared anymore of what he’d do. Namor’s own hands hesitantly placed themselves on your backside, before they tightened around you.
“Salamat… Salamat talaga, K'uk'ulkan…” Namor felt hot wet tears drip onto his shoulder.
He hugged back even tighter.
“Mixba’al, in etail.”
__________
BONUS:
“Okay, now ‘putangina mo’ means I like you.” You said to Namor, though the way you tried to (and failed) to hold back your laughter made him doubt that that was the meaning of the phrase.
“Is it really now?” You laughed, nodding profusely. “Hell yeah it is! We Pinoys use it all the time to compliment each other! Like, ‘putangina mo tol, ang guwapo mo nakakabakla ka na!’ ”
“ ‘Nakakabakla’?” Namor narrowed his eyes at you. Were you just messing with him? You laughed even more, clutching your sides by how much it hurt.
“Gaga, uto-uto ka talaga.”
Namor had a deep feeling in his stomach that you were insulting him (he was right) so he stood up and sighed, walking back towards the sea.
“What the-! Hey! Where are you going?!”
“K'a' ak'ate.”
“Aw c’mon K'uk'ulkan! Can’t you take a joke?!”
He was already gone by the time you had said that.
ok so i may have decided to make a namor x filipino!reader miniseries!!! writing "a piece of your memory." was so fun and i wanna try my hand at writing more!! the series isnt really linear and follows more of their moments together, and its more of a "reluctant acquaintances to friends ig to ACTUAL friends to lovers" series :DD but ofc when i post the fic of how they met thats technically the "prologue" ig
here are some ideas :DDD
"putangina mo tol, ang guwapo mo nakakabakla ka na"
Ksjsksjjsjs tangina talaga 😭😭 fave otor na kita !!
lovelots and more namor fics to come <3
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA SINO BA NAMAN DI MABABAKLA SA MGA PAREBROS DIBA 😩
also tysm!!! i hope i can meet ur expectations 😭
"beloved."
Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader
Rating: General Audiences, Comedy
Summary: You ask your... "sorta" friend what the meaning of his other name is. His answers break your heart, so you take matters into your own hands.
Word Count: 2,516
Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization
Disclaimer: Again, as mentioned before, Namor is slightly cold towards the reader! He isnt hateful or anything, just has his guard up bc of surface world resentment. Though, that guard can be taken back down sometimes ;)
__________
Reminder: This fic is part of a Namor x Filipino!Reader miniseries, but can be read on its own! Miniseries fic(s):
a piece of your history. / "beloved."
__________
The soft tune of a Filipino song played in the air, its melody dancing along with the sounds of the waves hitting the sand. Namor could only make out a few words within the song as he remembered the few phrases you had taught him. The melody was nice and eased his nerves, though he would never admit that to your face.
“What did they call you again?”
Namor blinked, processing your sudden question for a few seconds. Before you had suddenly asked him a question, you were both simply by the shore of the beach you frequented, with him in the water and you in the dry sand as usual, reading to him aloud a book that had come across your interests.
He looked at you questioningly, causing you to sputter over your words. “Oh! I meant what the Spaniards had called you when they…” You trailed off, fearing that you may have crossed a line with him this time. You knew how sore the topic was already, despite not knowing the full details as Namor refused to show any hint of vulnerability with you (or so you thought).
“What I mean is…” You cleared your throat, already bracing yourself for his reaction.
“.... Why do certain people have to call you ‘Namor’?” You finished, closing the book, shifting to fully turning to him, indicating that you were paying special attention. The cogs clicked in place in Namor’s head as he finally understood your question. He noticed that you had said ‘certain people’ instead of enemies, likely the reason being you two weren’t exactly enemies nor friends in both of your books.
“Uhm, you don’t have to answer if it’s too… y’know….” You quickly added, waving your hands in a dismissive manner. Namor’s eyebrows raised at you, causing your face to heat up. “I mean… alam naman natin na gago sila…” You quickly mumbled the last part.
Namor seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, before he shook his head and chuckled. “No, I can answer if you would like me to.”
Namor ran his fingers through the water, clearly contemplating on how he should approach your question. He smiled bitterly at you as he remembered the hateful memory. Your hands immediately went to your phone, turning the volume down on the classic OPM playlist you were playing.
“When my mother died, she asked to be buried in her homeland,” He started, playing with the wet sand underneath the water. Namor smiled, a loving look overtook his bitter expression.
“She wanted to show me the surface world and its beauty.” Her soft and caring smile flashed in his mind, it was as if he could still remember the days where she hugged him with such care. His mother was always so gentle, so sweet with him.
The prolonged gentle expression on Namor’s face was an unfamiliar one, as it was often hardened or practically deadpanned at you. You were only used to the occasional soft glimpses in his eyes.
A small part of you wished you could see this type of his face more, but that was crossing the line in your book.
“But, when I arrived…” Namor’s expression soon darkened. “They were here.” You winced, knowing exactly who he was talking about. He grit his teeth.
“They called me… ‘El Niño sin Amor’.”
He looked back at the sea, feeling that if he stared at you, you would see nothing more than hate and anger burn in his eyes, a look that would most likely scare you away. You don’t know if it helped, but you nodded understandingly, almost as if implying that he can feel if he wants to.
Namor could remember the look of fear and hatred in the man’s eyes, as if the Spaniards didn’t force him and his people to retreat in the ocean due to the illness inflicted upon them by the colonizers, before enslaving those who remained on land.
“The child without love, as they boasted.” Namor spoke in a rather biting sarcastic tone. Though he was smiling, the grin on his face was one of anger, holding no genuine joy or happiness in it.
“I took Namor from that, because I have no-” His eyes locked with you for a brief second before he averted his gaze. “-love for the surface.”
Your fingers played with the cover of the book you were holding, as you frowned even more and stared at him in disbelief.
“Luh? So bale, you were called a loveless child,” You began, a startled impression on your face, “just because you killed the colonizers after they basically enslaved and killed your people?” You asked for clarification, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. Namor nodded, a rather grim smile on his face.
“Aba, ang kakapal ng mukha nila ah…” You grumbled, before muttering something about how hypocritical and barbaric they were. Namor smiled gratefully at you, knowing you shared the same sentiment.
He sighed, as if tired of having to relive the same memory over and over again. Namor looked back at the sea, a subtle slouch in his posture now.
For a moment, you both sat there in silence, contemplating the lives of those who lived before (at least in your case) you. So many of Namor’s people were enslaved and forced by the Spaniards, yet they dare to call him the loveless child?
You pursed your lips, your eyes looking over Namor.
He wasn’t a child without love. His mother had loved him so, it was obvious by the way his voice would hush into a gentle baritone each time she was brought up.
His people loved him so, or at least, that’s what you can make up from his stories. You’ve only ever been able to gaze at them from afar in the sea, whenever they occasionally came to check up on him. Though with the way they addressed him you could easily see the fondness.
An idea popped into your head, though you were a bit hesitant to actually do it.
“Hey,” You called out, scooting closer to him, the waves licking at your feet. Namor rose an eyebrow at you, though your invasion of his personal space did not deter him.
Finally, you sat in the water next to him, perhaps this was one of the very few times you were both less than three feet apart. Namor’s mouth opened, about to tell you off that your clothes were getting wet and rather quite see-through.
You snickered, a mischievous look overtaking your eyes, a look that Namor was quite familiar with. Too familiar with it, he adds to himself.
You pointed at his face, before your pointer finger came into contact with the scrunch between his eyebrows.
Namor’s brain went blank, processing exactly what you had done to him. Before he can even make a reaction, you cut him off.
“Iniirog.”
You started slowly, gauging for his reaction. Namor’s eyes narrowed at you, confused but not offended. Your smile soon went into a toothy grin.
“Sinisinta.”
Namor grabbed your wrist and pulled away from your finger, clearly puzzled. The soft, cool touch of his damp fingers sent goosebumps up your back, but you continued nevertheless.
“Kinagigiliwan.”
You were practically giggling at this point, leaning your body towards him, as if to tease him about the words you were uttering, completely dismissing that he had not understood what you were saying.
Hesitantly, your hand went to reach for his, causing him to flinch. You took Namor’s hand between both of yours, softly tracing the palm lines on it.
“Minamahal.”
His senses were being overloaded, the low volume of the OPM Playlist still playing in the background, though it felt as if it was echoing rather loudly in his ears.
Namor’s eyes met yours, he remembers what the word “mahal” means. But that couldn’t possibly be what you’re saying, right? Were you instead perhaps meaning another thing? (He was sure that mahal meant expensive as well, were you just messing with him and calling him expensive?)
One of your hands stopped playing with his and reached towards his face, caressing his cheek softly. You contemplated running a hand on his pointy ears. However, you decided you wanted to keep your hand intact with your body.
Namor could do nothing but stare at you, his free hand coming up to hold yours that was on his cheek, though he made no move to remove your hand. If you were to look closer, it was as if he was leaning into your touch.
Your thumb softly grazed his upper cheek.
“Nagmamahal.”
With the way Namor talked fondly about his people, you couldn’t help but notice the love and adoration in his eyes. He truly loved his people and protected them with his whole heart.
Even if Namor couldn’t fully understand what you were saying to him, he could still somewhat comprehend what you were trying to say.
Namor was not a child without love, he has loved and has been loved. He will continue to love and he will continue to be loved, you were sure of that.
To your and his surprise, his eyes fluttered close as he leaned into the warm touch of your hand against his damp cheek. The feeling was scorching against his cool skin, yet it brought comfort to him even so.
A part of him wanted this moment to never end, the soft tunes of your mother tongue playing in the background, as you practically showered him with affection that you two had an unspoken agreement about.
Soon, however, you couldn’t help yourself.
The hand on his face traced his cheek softly, before it came and pinched it rather aggressively.
Namor’s eyes snapped open as he suddenly experienced a rather painful pinch to the cheek. Your ninangs would be proud of you if they saw the red mark on his skin right now. You snickered, making kissy-faces at him.
“Bebeluvs~” He deadpanned at you, fully knowing the sound of your rather trickster voice.
“My sexy, sexy love!” You finished, laughing so much your stomach hurt. You knew that Namor probably wouldn’t get the reference, but you couldn’t help yourself from quoting none other than the queen herself, Kathryn Bernardo.
You were still laughing, peeving Namor a bit. This caused him to pull away from your touch and some distance between the two of you. The laughter soon died in your throat, as you instantly sort of regretted the fact that you ruined the moment. Shet, maybe you should’ve maintained the wholesome moment just a bit longer.
You fully expected him to stand up and leave you there in the water again, already used to him doing it with the many, many times you’ve tried to trick him into saying rather comically funny words in your language. Namor could always figure you out, though it may be because of the way you haven’t been able to stop yourself from laughing each time.
To your surprise, he simply stayed there, a contemplative look on his face as he looked down at the water he was in.
You cleared your throat, scooting closer to him once again. You opened and closed your mouth, unsure of what to say next now that you have feared you may have offended him. Namor’s voice soon filled the one-sided awkward silence left in the air.
“Your words… What did they mean?”
You beamed at him, jumping at the chance to answer. “They can all actually mean different things! ‘Iniirog’ for example can mea-” A single stare from Namor shut you up from overcomplicating the answer, though it did not stop you from grumbling about the complex meanings of the words.
“Uhm, well, generally, they all kinda mean…” You whispered the last part, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed that you had even started all of this.
Namor sighed heavily, staring at you in dismay by your sudden bashfulness that always seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Ka a'alé, speak up.” His body turned towards you more as he leaned his head down in order to listen more carefully.
You shakily let out a breath, fully preparing to face his rageful wrath yet again.
(You were exaggerating, the most he’s ever done is splash water directly into your face. Though it did go straight to your eyes once, you never forgave him for that.)
“Uhm, what I meant to say was…” You were stalling again, nervously fiddling with your fingers on your lap, flexing them under the water.
Namor sighed. “If you can’t say them to my face, why say them at a-”
“THEY ALL MEAN ‘BELOVED’!”
You practically shouted at him, shocking him to his core. You swore you could feel the water suddenly shift. Oh no, what if the Talokanil have been watching you all this time and you just shouted at their king?!
“Or… Haha… Other things as well.”
At this point, you were just trying to fill in the rather thick silence in the air. “But uhm, they could all also mean beloved.”
Meanwhile, Namor stayed silent at your confession. Have you been whispering to him such intimate words of affection all this time?
“All those words… were you calling me ‘beloved’?” At this, you shook your head slowly, confusing him even more.
“.... Actually, the last part means something else.” You felt like you were hyperventilating at this point. Perhaps you’ve ruined your favorite OPM playlist forever, as you will always associate it with this moment.
“The… The last part means ‘loving’...” You weakly replied, not daring to meet his eyes. You feel like you’ve royally screwed up, banished from the ocean even. Goodbye, night swimming, you will be dearly missed.
You slowly looked, bracing yourself for his reaction. The scene made your jaw drop, and Namor’s face would have been priceless to you if the situation hadn’t called for it.
The flusteredness on his face would’ve caught anyone off-guard. The way his eyebrows raised as the corner of his eyes pinched at the corners. His lips were slightly open, as if to say that he was too shocked to even close his mouth.
Soon, however, Namor finally came to his senses. He finally realized what you had been trying to say to him all this time.
They had called him “the child without love” in their spitting, hateful language.
And you had called him such loving words in your native language, as if to imply that they were wrong.
When you scooted closer to him once more, he didn't flinch or pull away this time. You blinked at his movements, noting the way he slightly leaned onto you again.
“... Niib'oolal." was the only thing Namor said after a few minutes.
You’ve talked to him enough to know what that means.
You gleefully smiled at him, before clearing your throat and relaxing your posture.
“Psh, ako pa? Wala lang yun, K’uk’ulkan.”
The soft tunes of the OPM playlist from your phone continued playing in the air, and the cold feeling of the water soon came to feel like a warm embrace instead.
I WOULD SHARE BUT LIKE ME WHEN MY OPM PLAYLIST IS KINDA TRASHY 😭
"beloved."
Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader
Rating: General Audiences, Comedy
Summary: You ask your... "sorta" friend what the meaning of his other name is. His answers break your heart, so you take matters into your own hands.
Word Count: 2,516
Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization
Disclaimer: Again, as mentioned before, Namor is slightly cold towards the reader! He isnt hateful or anything, just has his guard up bc of surface world resentment. Though, that guard can be taken back down sometimes ;)
a piece of your history.
a piece of your history.
a piece of your history.
__________
The soft tune of a Filipino song played in the air, its melody dancing along with the sounds of the waves hitting the sand. Namor could only make out a few words within the song as he remembered the few phrases you had taught him. The melody was nice and eased his nerves, though he would never admit that to your face.
“What did they call you again?”
Namor blinked, processing your sudden question for a few seconds. Before you had suddenly asked him a question, you were both simply by the shore of the beach you frequented, with him in the water and you in the dry sand as usual, reading to him aloud a book that had come across your interests.
He looked at you questioningly, causing you to sputter over your words. “Oh! I meant what the Spaniards had called you when they…” You trailed off, fearing that you may have crossed a line with him this time. You knew how sore the topic was already, despite not knowing the full details as Namor refused to show any hint of vulnerability with you (or so you thought).
“What I mean is…” You cleared your throat, already bracing yourself for his reaction.
“.... Why do certain people have to call you ‘Namor’?” You finished, closing the book, shifting to fully turning to him, indicating that you were paying special attention. The cogs clicked in place in Namor’s head as he finally understood your question. He noticed that you had said ‘certain people’ instead of enemies, likely the reason being you two weren’t exactly enemies nor friends in both of your books.
“Uhm, you don’t have to answer if it’s too… y’know….” You quickly added, waving your hands in a dismissive manner. Namor’s eyebrows raised at you, causing your face to heat up. “I mean… alam naman natin na gago sila…” You quickly mumbled the last part.
Namor seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, before he shook his head and chuckled. “No, I can answer if you would like me to.”
Namor ran his fingers through the water, clearly contemplating on how he should approach your question. He smiled bitterly at you as he remembered the hateful memory. Your hands immediately went to your phone, turning the volume down on the classic OPM playlist you were playing.
“When my mother died, she asked to be buried in her homeland,” He started, playing with the wet sand underneath the water. Namor smiled, a loving look overtook his bitter expression.
“She wanted to show me the surface world and its beauty.” Her soft and caring smile flashed in his mind, it was as if he could still remember the days where she hugged him with such care. His mother was always so gentle, so sweet with him.
The prolonged gentle expression on Namor’s face was an unfamiliar one, as it was often hardened or practically deadpanned at you. You were only used to the occasional soft glimpses in his eyes.
A small part of you wished you could see this type of his face more, but that was crossing the line in your book.
“But, when I arrived…” Namor’s expression soon darkened. “They were here.” You winced, knowing exactly who he was talking about. He grit his teeth.
“They called me… ‘El Niño sin Amor’.”
He looked back at the sea, feeling that if he stared at you, you would see nothing more than hate and anger burn in his eyes, a look that would most likely scare you away. You don’t know if it helped, but you nodded understandingly, almost as if implying that he can feel if he wants to.
Namor could remember the look of fear and hatred in the man’s eyes, as if the Spaniards didn’t force him and his people to retreat in the ocean due to the illness inflicted upon them by the colonizers, before enslaving those who remained on land.
“The child without love, as they boasted.” Namor spoke in a rather biting sarcastic tone. Though he was smiling, the grin on his face was one of anger, holding no genuine joy or happiness in it.
“I took Namor from that, because I have no-” His eyes locked with you for a brief second before he averted his gaze. “-love for the surface.”
Your fingers played with the cover of the book you were holding, as you frowned even more and stared at him in disbelief.
“Luh? So bale, you were called a loveless child,” You began, a startled impression on your face, “just because you killed the colonizers after they basically enslaved and killed your people?” You asked for clarification, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. Namor nodded, a rather grim smile on his face.
“Aba, ang kakapal ng mukha nila ah…” You grumbled, before muttering something about how hypocritical and barbaric they were. Namor smiled gratefully at you, knowing you shared the same sentiment.
He sighed, as if tired of having to relive the same memory over and over again. Namor looked back at the sea, a subtle slouch in his posture now.
For a moment, you both sat there in silence, contemplating the lives of those who lived before (at least in your case) you. So many of Namor’s people were enslaved and forced by the Spaniards, yet they dare to call him the loveless child?
You pursed your lips, your eyes looking over Namor.
He wasn’t a child without love. His mother had loved him so, it was obvious by the way his voice would hush into a gentle baritone each time she was brought up.
His people loved him so, or at least, that’s what you can make up from his stories. You’ve only ever been able to gaze at them from afar in the sea, whenever they occasionally came to check up on him. Though with the way they addressed him you could easily see the fondness.
An idea popped into your head, though you were a bit hesitant to actually do it.
“Hey,” You called out, scooting closer to him, the waves licking at your feet. Namor rose an eyebrow at you, though your invasion of his personal space did not deter him.
Finally, you sat in the water next to him, perhaps this was one of the very few times you were both less than three feet apart. Namor’s mouth opened, about to tell you off that your clothes were getting wet and rather quite see-through.
You snickered, a mischievous look overtaking your eyes, a look that Namor was quite familiar with. Too familiar with it, he adds to himself.
You pointed at his face, before your pointer finger came into contact with the scrunch between his eyebrows.
Namor’s brain went blank, processing exactly what you had done to him. Before he can even make a reaction, you cut him off.
“Iniirog.”
You started slowly, gauging for his reaction. Namor’s eyes narrowed at you, confused but not offended. Your smile soon went into a toothy grin.
“Sinisinta.”
Namor grabbed your wrist and pulled away from your finger, clearly puzzled. The soft, cool touch of his damp fingers sent goosebumps up your back, but you continued nevertheless.
“Kinagigiliwan.”
You were practically giggling at this point, leaning your body towards him, as if to tease him about the words you were uttering, completely dismissing that he had not understood what you were saying.
Hesitantly, your hand went to reach for his, causing him to flinch. You took Namor’s hand between both of yours, softly tracing the palm lines on it.
“Minamahal.”
His senses were being overloaded, the low volume of the OPM Playlist still playing in the background, though it felt as if it was echoing rather loudly in his ears.
Namor’s eyes met yours, he remembers what the word “mahal” means. But that couldn’t possibly be what you’re saying, right? Were you instead perhaps meaning another thing? (He was sure that mahal meant expensive as well, were you just messing with him and calling him expensive?)
One of your hands stopped playing with his and reached towards his face, caressing his cheek softly. You contemplated running a hand on his pointy ears. However, you decided you wanted to keep your hand intact with your body.
Namor could do nothing but stare at you, his free hand coming up to hold yours that was on his cheek, though he made no move to remove your hand. If you were to look closer, it was as if he was leaning into your touch.
Your thumb softly grazed his upper cheek.
“Nagmamahal.”
With the way Namor talked fondly about his people, you couldn’t help but notice the love and adoration in his eyes. He truly loved his people and protected them with his whole heart.
Even if Namor couldn’t fully understand what you were saying to him, he could still somewhat comprehend what you were trying to say.
Namor was not a child without love, he has loved and has been loved. He will continue to love and he will continue to be loved, you were sure of that.
To your and his surprise, his eyes fluttered close as he leaned into the warm touch of your hand against his damp cheek. The feeling was scorching against his cool skin, yet it brought comfort to him even so.
A part of him wanted this moment to never end, the soft tunes of your mother tongue playing in the background, as you practically showered him with affection that you two had an unspoken agreement about.
Soon, however, you couldn’t help yourself.
The hand on his face traced his cheek softly, before it came and pinched it rather aggressively.
Namor’s eyes snapped open as he suddenly experienced a rather painful pinch to the cheek. Your ninangs would be proud of you if they saw the red mark on his skin right now. You snickered, making kissy-faces at him.
“Bebeluvs~” He deadpanned at you, fully knowing the sound of your rather trickster voice.
“My sexy, sexy love!” You finished, laughing so much your stomach hurt. You knew that Namor probably wouldn’t get the reference, but you couldn’t help yourself from quoting none other than the queen herself, Kathryn Bernardo.
You were still laughing, peeving Namor a bit. This caused him to pull away from your touch and some distance between the two of you. The laughter soon died in your throat, as you instantly sort of regretted the fact that you ruined the moment. Shet, maybe you should’ve maintained the wholesome moment just a bit longer.
You fully expected him to stand up and leave you there in the water again, already used to him doing it with the many, many times you’ve tried to trick him into saying rather comically funny words in your language. Namor could always figure you out, though it may be because of the way you haven’t been able to stop yourself from laughing each time.
To your surprise, he simply stayed there, a contemplative look on his face as he looked down at the water he was in.
You cleared your throat, scooting closer to him once again. You opened and closed your mouth, unsure of what to say next now that you have feared you may have offended him. Namor’s voice soon filled the one-sided awkward silence left in the air.
“Your words… What did they mean?”
You beamed at him, jumping at the chance to answer. “They can all actually mean different things! ‘Iniirog’ for example can mea-” A single stare from Namor shut you up from overcomplicating the answer, though it did not stop you from grumbling about the complex meanings of the words.
“Uhm, well, generally, they all kinda mean…” You whispered the last part, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed that you had even started all of this.
Namor sighed heavily, staring at you in dismay by your sudden bashfulness that always seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Ka a'alé, speak up.” His body turned towards you more as he leaned his head down in order to listen more carefully.
You shakily let out a breath, fully preparing to face his rageful wrath yet again.
(You were exaggerating, the most he’s ever done is splash water directly into your face. Though it did go straight to your eyes once, you never forgave him for that.)
“Uhm, what I meant to say was…” You were stalling again, nervously fiddling with your fingers on your lap, flexing them under the water.
Namor sighed. “If you can’t say them to my face, why say them at a-”
“THEY ALL MEAN ‘BELOVED’!”
You practically shouted at him, shocking him to his core. You swore you could feel the water suddenly shift. Oh no, what if the Talokanil have been watching you all this time and you just shouted at their king?!
“Or… Haha… Other things as well.”
At this point, you were just trying to fill in the rather thick silence in the air. “But uhm, they could all also mean beloved.”
Meanwhile, Namor stayed silent at your confession. Have you been whispering to him such intimate words of affection all this time?
“All those words… were you calling me ‘beloved’?” At this, you shook your head slowly, confusing him even more.
“.... Actually, the last part means something else.” You felt like you were hyperventilating at this point. Perhaps you’ve ruined your favorite OPM playlist forever, as you will always associate it with this moment.
“The… The last part means ‘loving’...” You weakly replied, not daring to meet his eyes. You feel like you’ve royally screwed up, banished from the ocean even. Goodbye, night swimming, you will be dearly missed.
You slowly looked, bracing yourself for his reaction. The scene made your jaw drop, and Namor’s face would have been priceless to you if the situation hadn’t called for it.
The flusteredness on his face would’ve caught anyone off-guard. The way his eyebrows raised as the corner of his eyes pinched at the corners. His lips were slightly open, as if to say that he was too shocked to even close his mouth.
Soon, however, Namor finally came to his senses. He finally realized what you had been trying to say to him all this time.
They had called him “the child without love” in their spitting, hateful language.
And you had called him such loving words in your native language, as if to imply that they were wrong.
When you scooted closer to him once more, he didn't flinch or pull away this time. You blinked at his movements, noting the way he slightly leaned onto you again.
“... Dios bo’otik.” was the only thing Namor said after a few minutes.
You’ve talked to him enough to know what that means.
You gleefully smiled at him, before clearing your throat and relaxing your posture.
“Psh, ako pa? Wala lang yun, K’uk’ulkan.”
The soft tunes of the OPM playlist from your phone continued playing in the air, and the cold feeling of the water soon came to feel like a warm embrace instead.
YEAHHH ITS EXACTLY WHY I INCLUDED THE LAST PART AHAHAHAHA ive never not met a filipino whos tried to trick other ppl into swearing in their language 😭
a piece of your history.
Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader
Rating: Mature, Comedy (No smut but there is tension)
Summary: It hurts to not be able to properly recreate your traditional pre-colonial Filipino clothing, and Namor takes notice of this feeling of yours.
Word Count: 2,578
Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization
Disclaimer: Namor is kind of cold and dark towards reader!! Idk if its ooc but i would imagine that he would generally be apprehensive towards a surface dweller. you have been warned
Reminder: This fic is part of a miniseries, but can be read on its own! Miniseries fic(s):
"beloved."
__________
“Do you like it?”
You asked, grinning, slightly turning yourself around in order to fully show off your work proudly.
Namor hummed, sitting in the water by the shore of the beach. He was always like this, meeting up with you now and again.
“Is this the wear of your people?” He asked. You grinned and nodded, letting out small chuckles while fiddling with the fabric between your fingers. You had always wanted to make the Pre-Colonial traditional clothing of your Filipino ancestors, it was the closest thing you had of home as of now.
The process was tedious, you admit that. So little resources or references online on how your specific region’s clothing looked– much less how it was made, due to how much the Spaniards burned and banned, but you had still managed to gather enough to make one as accurately as possible.
“It’s… beautiful.” He simply says, eyeing up the clothes and how it wrapped around your body, causing you to tear your eyes away from him in fear of showing how his compliment affected you in such a way.
“Why have your people stopped wearing this? Are they not your traditional wear?” Namor asked, remembering the photos of your family that you had shown him. They were wearing what you had called a “baro’t saya” and “barong” for the celebration of “Buwan ng Wika” as he recalled it.
“It’s gorgeous, and made by the hands of your people instead of the colonizers.” He continued, “It escapes me on why your people have abandoned wearing your traditional garbs, instead choosing to wear what they gave you.” This statement slightly irked you, causing you to deadpan at him.
“Dude, we were enslaved and tortured by them for more than 300 years.” You crossed your arms. “Do you think we abandoned it willingly?” You were met with silence, and for once, Namor was the one who was left speechless by bluntness.
“... Right. My apologies.” Was all Namor could reply, causing you to let out a small laugh, shaking your head. It’s not often you’re the one leaving him silent, with him often bashing “surface dwellers”, causing you to regularly remind him that you yourself are a surface dweller.
Namor never had a proper reply for that.
However, even if you were happy with your work, you still frowned and sighed. You dragged your fingers along the cloth, wistfully looking at its patterns. Namor’s eyes followed the way your face curled up to a grimace, causing him to frown even more (if that was even possible) in confusion.
“It’s not much, though. The fabric’s sorta cheap ‘cause it was the only one I could find that had this specific pattern. I had to pick between comfortability or accuracy.” You sulked, sitting down on the dry sand close to him. You hugged your knees close to your chest, already itchy from the scratchy inside of the fabric.
“I chose accuracy, of course… for them.” You vaguely finished, slightly bitter on how hard it was to make your country’s real traditional clothing in an authentic way. You palmed the sand, looking for your bag before taking out your trusty cellphone.
Ah, surface dwellers and their hand-held yet fragile technologies… Namor thought as you typed and scrolled away at your phone.
“I mean, look at this!” You held your phone out, showing what appeared to be a real life replica of your garbs, just made in a better way. Namor narrowed his eyes in confusion.
“So your people still make this?”
“Well technically yes, but no? God, I wish, though. This is just a historical costume for entertainment…” You replied, huffing.
“Tangina talaga ng Espanya…” You grumbled under your breath. Namor chuckled at you, as he had heard you swear in your mother tongue (he was sure it was a swear– it was literally the first word you had taught him) at one of your country’s past colonizers.
“Jay, ba'ax jaaj le je'elo'...” He replied, agreeing, though this did cause your face to slightly feel warmer. You would never admit it to his face, but him speaking his native language was kinda hot.
You let out a small chuckle, before wistfully sighing and looking at the sky.
“You know… I’m kinda jealous of you and your people of Talokan.” Namor rose an eyebrow at you, his head turning to look at you. You put your hands up in mock defense, clearly meaning well.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way! And yeah, you guys have faced struggles with water pollution, junk and also colonizer stuff… It’s just… y’know…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling bashful. Namor’s gaze softened, as he nodded to indicate that you continue. You breathed in deeply.
“Well, I mean, you guys got to keep your culture intact, no outside forces ripping it away from you.” You mumbled, picking at the sand that got between your nails.
“No forgotten gods… no forgotten stories… no forgotten practices.” You longingly looked at the sea.
You snorted, though. “Even if they tried, you could still put up a fight and protect it.” You smiled at him, causing him to avert his gaze and look back at the ocean.
“I just… I just wish I could salvage at least a small part of it.” You finished, already feeling your throat close up and tears form in your eyes. God, why did you have to be so emotional? Putangina naman…
For a beat or two, Namor stayed quiet. You already felt dread setting in your stomach, oh god. What if he had another diva moment and dove back in the water? Before you could panic even more, you heard the water move, as water droplets seem to fall from sky and onto you. You looked up in confusion, squinting your eyes at Namor, who had stood up from his place to sit closer to you.
“... May I see more of these garbs?”
Your frown was replaced with a smile, as you swallowed back the lump and blinked away the oncoming tears. “Sure! I have so many saved and printed– it’s important to have references before crafting, after all!”
Your signature grin was back as you happily took out what looked to be a plastic bag containing pictures that looked similar to your clothes. You happily explained away, showing him more and more photos– though he did notice that you had backed up a bit when he came a bit too close to your personal space.
He followed along as you showed more and more photos– along with more pictures of Pre-Colonial jewelry that you wanted to replicate yourself. He noticed the way you would stop and longingly gaze at them, before continuing on with explaining.
Namor watched the way your eyes would brighten as you talked more and more about your history, before they would dim as you brought up on why it was not used by your people in the modern day anymore.
“... And yeah, that’s pretty much what my own region wears! Though, it does get a bit tricky to see if it really is my region per say,” Namor looked at you, a bit confused but waiting for you to continue. Your smile grew wider.
“All regions basically have a lot of similarities and differences! So sometimes it gets a bit confusing.” You rambled, before noticing yourself and getting a bit embarrassed. Namor softly smiled at you.
“This just shows how rich the cultures of your people are, in etail.”
You blinked before letting out a joyous laugh, surprised that Namor of all people complimented you! (Well, to be more precise, your heritage). You were about to reply before your eyes caught sight of the time on your phone. “Ay gago! Ang late na pala! I still have to call my parents!” You put on your coat over your work, before shoving your phone back in your bag.
Before you could properly stand up, a hand on your wrist stopped you. Your brain loaded for a few seconds, your eyes following the hand and how it trailed back to Namor. “Come back here in two days time.” He asked (more of demanded).
You gawked at him, this was the first time he ever confirmed that you were going to see him! Most of the time, he simply came and went as he pleased. The look in his eyes already made it impossible to say no, so of course refusing him was not an option.
“I-I…” You stammered, meeting his eyes that had so much emotion in them. You gulped. “Okay! See you in… two days, dude!” You quickly went on your way home.
Namor nodded at you, before he caught sight of the familiar plastic ziplock you had left behind. Before he could call out to you, you were already too far away, and if he were to approach you someone would surely see him.
Namor watched your back fade from the distance, already confirming the idea forming in his head. He nodded to himself, before grabbing the ziplock bag and diving back into the sea, making sure to not let anything get wet.
__________
You practically ran towards the beach as you grinned, excited that your.. Friend(?) or Frenemy(?) personally requested your presence. You cleared your throat and attempted to act cool, though severely failing, before sitting down by the drier parts of the sand, admiring how beautiful the waves looked.
A few moments later, a familiar head peeped out from the water, causing you to laugh and wave at him. Namor uncharacteristically bore a grin at you, continuing to get out of water, the droplets from his hair magically disappearing with each step.
“I have a surprise for you.” was the first thing he said as he offered you a hand in getting up. You nodded, though a bit confused now.
In his hands, you had finally taken notice of a makeshift waterproof bag tied by a drawstring along with a familiar plastic ziplock of papers. “Ay, onga pala! I accidentally left my papers…” You exclaimed, surprised that he kept them in such good condition.
Namor gingerly handed you the drawstring bag first, urging you to open it. “Please, have a look inside.” You hesitantly took it in your hands, noting the way the fabric practically had gold woven into it.
What you saw took your breath away,
it was Pre-Colonial indigenous Filipino clothes.
You ran a hand through them, the fabric being silky yet cool to the touch. Just as how Filipino clothes were theorized to be. Somehow, Namor had found a way to wove it with gold, just as what your research had said. You felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes, it felt like a piece of history was being given back to you.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Namor’s voice snapped you out of your stupor. You looked back at him, open-mouthed and too shocked to reply. He chuckled at you. “Try it on, in etail.”
Namor politely turned around, silently trying to hide and bury the way he felt when he heard fabric shifting and the likely assumption of you undressing.
Your breath hitched as the feeling of the fabric against your skin was a comfortable one. It was perfectly tailored and made for you, as if someone had memorized every inch of your body down to the smallest details, the robes fitting like a glove on your body.
“You can look now…” You managed to practically croak out, forever feeling thankful at such a kind gesture from no one other than Namor himself.
The moment Namor turned around, he swore that he felt slightly lightheaded from how you managed to take his breath away with just your look. You looked like you were in your natural element, your most natural state.
It almost felt as if this was how you were supposed to be.
The way the gold-woven fabric hung off your own copper skin had him thinking of thoughts he swore he would never have of surface-dwellers, and perhaps the most euphoric feeling was seeing the look on your face; the genuine joy and happiness.
But wait, something was missing.
He narrowed his eyes at you before rummaging through the bag he carried with him. Namor gently brought out familiar looking jewelry, though with its own twist.
“These… are also for you.”
Namor took your hand and placed it in his, slipping on a rather detailed and delicately made golden ring. He took both of your wrists and placed on them gold bracelets adorned with what appeared to be a jade material.
All the while, he made direct eye contact with you. You practically shook under his gaze, deeming it to be too intimate.
Before you could process anything more, you felt the heat of Namor’s body behind your back, as you heard gold clinking together. His hot breath fanned on the back of your neck, as the heat in your ears never seemed to go away.
You felt a heavy weighted necklace be placed onto your collarbone, before a click behind you was resounded. Namor’s hands lingered for a split second on the nape of your neck, before he practically ripped himself away and stood back, afraid of his own actions.
Your breath left your body for what felt like the nth time in the past 30 minutes, as you took the necklace between your fingers and observed the intricate designs of gold and jade beautifully fused together.
All of this jewelry should have felt heavy, but to you they felt as if they were perfectly crafted and made for you and your people. It was as if these were all made with heavy and careful detail, making sure that they perfectly aligned with your own practices but still with its own twist and charm from the gifter.
You could never take back what the Spaniards have taken from your country, but it felt like a lost piece of your own heritage was being directly gifted to you, you could practically feel the pride of your ancestors. This was all so overwhelming.
“K'uk'ulkan…”
Namor suppressed the heat he felt as his natural name rolled off your tongue in such a breathless manner.
Now, it was your turn to surprise as he did not anticipate that you would tackle him in a hug. You buried your face in his neck, not scared anymore of what he’d do. Namor’s own hands hesitantly placed themselves on your backside, before they tightened around you.
“Salamat… Salamat talaga, K'uk'ulkan…” Namor felt hot wet tears drip onto his shoulder.
He hugged back even tighter.
“Mixba’al, in etail.”
__________
BONUS:
“Okay, now ‘putangina mo’ means I like you.” You said to Namor, though the way you tried to (and failed) to hold back your laughter made him doubt that that was the meaning of the phrase.
“Is it really now?” You laughed, nodding profusely. “Hell yeah it is! We Pinoys use it all the time to compliment each other! Like, ‘putangina mo tol, ang guwapo mo nakakabakla ka na!’ ”
“ ‘Nakakabakla’?” Namor narrowed his eyes at you. Were you just messing with him? You laughed even more, clutching your sides by how much it hurt.
“Gaga, uto-uto ka talaga.”
Namor had a deep feeling in his stomach that you were insulting him (he was right) so he stood up and sighed, walking back towards the sea.
“What the-! Hey! Where are you going?!”
“K'a' ak'ate.”
“Aw c’mon K'uk'ulkan! Can’t you take a joke?!”
He was already gone by the time you had said that.
a piece of your history.
Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader
Rating: Mature, Comedy (No smut but there is tension)
Summary: It hurts to not be able to properly recreate your traditional pre-colonial Filipino clothing, and Namor takes notice of this feeling of yours.
Word Count: 2,578
Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization
Disclaimer: Namor is kind of cold and dark towards reader!! Idk if its ooc but i would imagine that he would generally be apprehensive towards a surface dweller. you have been warned
Reminder: This fic is part of a miniseries, but can be read on its own! Miniseries fic(s):
"beloved."
__________
“Do you like it?”
You asked, grinning, slightly turning yourself around in order to fully show off your work proudly.
Namor hummed, sitting in the water by the shore of the beach. He was always like this, meeting up with you now and again.
“Is this the wear of your people?” He asked. You grinned and nodded, letting out small chuckles while fiddling with the fabric between your fingers. You had always wanted to make the Pre-Colonial traditional clothing of your Filipino ancestors, it was the closest thing you had of home as of now.
The process was tedious, you admit that. So little resources or references online on how your specific region’s clothing looked– much less how it was made, due to how much the Spaniards burned and banned, but you had still managed to gather enough to make one as accurately as possible.
“It’s… beautiful.” He simply says, eyeing up the clothes and how it wrapped around your body, causing you to tear your eyes away from him in fear of showing how his compliment affected you in such a way.
“Why have your people stopped wearing this? Are they not your traditional wear?” Namor asked, remembering the photos of your family that you had shown him. They were wearing what you had called a “baro’t saya” and “barong” for the celebration of “Buwan ng Wika” as he recalled it.
“It’s gorgeous, and made by the hands of your people instead of the colonizers.” He continued, “It escapes me on why your people have abandoned wearing your traditional garbs, instead choosing to wear what they gave you.” This statement slightly irked you, causing you to deadpan at him.
“Dude, we were enslaved and tortured by them for more than 300 years.” You crossed your arms. “Do you think we abandoned it willingly?” You were met with silence, and for once, Namor was the one who was left speechless by bluntness.
“... Right. My apologies.” Was all Namor could reply, causing you to let out a small laugh, shaking your head. It’s not often you’re the one leaving him silent, with him often bashing “surface dwellers”, causing you to regularly remind him that you yourself are a surface dweller.
Namor never had a proper reply for that.
However, even if you were happy with your work, you still frowned and sighed. You dragged your fingers along the cloth, wistfully looking at its patterns. Namor’s eyes followed the way your face curled up to a grimace, causing him to frown even more (if that was even possible) in confusion.
“It’s not much, though. The fabric’s sorta cheap ‘cause it was the only one I could find that had this specific pattern. I had to pick between comfortability or accuracy.” You sulked, sitting down on the dry sand close to him. You hugged your knees close to your chest, already itchy from the scratchy inside of the fabric.
“I chose accuracy, of course… for them.” You vaguely finished, slightly bitter on how hard it was to make your country’s real traditional clothing in an authentic way. You palmed the sand, looking for your bag before taking out your trusty cellphone.
Ah, surface dwellers and their hand-held yet fragile technologies… Namor thought as you typed and scrolled away at your phone.
“I mean, look at this!” You held your phone out, showing what appeared to be a real life replica of your garbs, just made in a better way. Namor narrowed his eyes in confusion.
“So your people still make this?”
“Well technically yes, but no? God, I wish, though. This is just a historical costume for entertainment…” You replied, huffing.
“Tangina talaga ng Espanya…” You grumbled under your breath. Namor chuckled at you, as he had heard you swear in your mother tongue (he was sure it was a swear– it was literally the first word you had taught him) at one of your country’s past colonizers.
“Jay, ba'ax jaaj le je'elo'...” He replied, agreeing, though this did cause your face to slightly feel warmer. You would never admit it to his face, but him speaking his native language was kinda hot.
You let out a small chuckle, before wistfully sighing and looking at the sky.
“You know… I’m kinda jealous of you and your people of Talokan.” Namor rose an eyebrow at you, his head turning to look at you. You put your hands up in mock defense, clearly meaning well.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way! And yeah, you guys have faced struggles with water pollution, junk and also colonizer stuff… It’s just… y’know…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling bashful. Namor’s gaze softened, as he nodded to indicate that you continue. You breathed in deeply.
“Well, I mean, you guys got to keep your culture intact, no outside forces ripping it away from you.” You mumbled, picking at the sand that got between your nails.
“No forgotten gods… no forgotten stories… no forgotten practices.” You longingly looked at the sea.
You snorted, though. “Even if they tried, you could still put up a fight and protect it.” You smiled at him, causing him to avert his gaze and look back at the ocean.
“I just… I just wish I could salvage at least a small part of it.” You finished, already feeling your throat close up and tears form in your eyes. God, why did you have to be so emotional? Putangina naman…
For a beat or two, Namor stayed quiet. You already felt dread setting in your stomach, oh god. What if he had another diva moment and dove back in the water? Before you could panic even more, you heard the water move, as water droplets seem to fall from sky and onto you. You looked up in confusion, squinting your eyes at Namor, who had stood up from his place to sit closer to you.
“... May I see more of these garbs?”
Your frown was replaced with a smile, as you swallowed back the lump and blinked away the oncoming tears. “Sure! I have so many saved and printed– it’s important to have references before crafting, after all!”
Your signature grin was back as you happily took out what looked to be a plastic bag containing pictures that looked similar to your clothes. You happily explained away, showing him more and more photos– though he did notice that you had backed up a bit when he came a bit too close to your personal space.
He followed along as you showed more and more photos– along with more pictures of Pre-Colonial jewelry that you wanted to replicate yourself. He noticed the way you would stop and longingly gaze at them, before continuing on with explaining.
Namor watched the way your eyes would brighten as you talked more and more about your history, before they would dim as you brought up on why it was not used by your people in the modern day anymore.
“... And yeah, that’s pretty much what my own region wears! Though, it does get a bit tricky to see if it really is my region per say,” Namor looked at you, a bit confused but waiting for you to continue. Your smile grew wider.
“All regions basically have a lot of similarities and differences! So sometimes it gets a bit confusing.” You rambled, before noticing yourself and getting a bit embarrassed. Namor softly smiled at you.
“This just shows how rich the cultures of your people are, in etail.”
You blinked before letting out a joyous laugh, surprised that Namor of all people complimented you! (Well, to be more precise, your heritage). You were about to reply before your eyes caught sight of the time on your phone. “Ay gago! Ang late na pala! I still have to call my parents!” You put on your coat over your work, before shoving your phone back in your bag.
Before you could properly stand up, a hand on your wrist stopped you. Your brain loaded for a few seconds, your eyes following the hand and how it trailed back to Namor. “Come back here in two days time.” He asked (more of demanded).
You gawked at him, this was the first time he ever confirmed that you were going to see him! Most of the time, he simply came and went as he pleased. The look in his eyes already made it impossible to say no, so of course refusing him was not an option.
“I-I…” You stammered, meeting his eyes that had so much emotion in them. You gulped. “Okay! See you in… two days, dude!” You quickly went on your way home.
Namor nodded at you, before he caught sight of the familiar plastic ziplock you had left behind. Before he could call out to you, you were already too far away, and if he were to approach you someone would surely see him.
Namor watched your back fade from the distance, already confirming the idea forming in his head. He nodded to himself, before grabbing the ziplock bag and diving back into the sea, making sure to not let anything get wet.
__________
You practically ran towards the beach as you grinned, excited that your.. Friend(?) or Frenemy(?) personally requested your presence. You cleared your throat and attempted to act cool, though severely failing, before sitting down by the drier parts of the sand, admiring how beautiful the waves looked.
A few moments later, a familiar head peeped out from the water, causing you to laugh and wave at him. Namor uncharacteristically bore a grin at you, continuing to get out of water, the droplets from his hair magically disappearing with each step.
“I have a surprise for you.” was the first thing he said as he offered you a hand in getting up. You nodded, though a bit confused now.
In his hands, you had finally taken notice of a makeshift waterproof bag tied by a drawstring along with a familiar plastic ziplock of papers. “Ay, onga pala! I accidentally left my papers…” You exclaimed, surprised that he kept them in such good condition.
Namor gingerly handed you the drawstring bag first, urging you to open it. “Please, have a look inside.” You hesitantly took it in your hands, noting the way the fabric practically had gold woven into it.
What you saw took your breath away,
it was Pre-Colonial indigenous Filipino clothes.
You ran a hand through them, the fabric being silky yet cool to the touch. Just as how Filipino clothes were theorized to be. Somehow, Namor had found a way to wove it with gold, just as what your research had said. You felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes, it felt like a piece of history was being given back to you.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Namor’s voice snapped you out of your stupor. You looked back at him, open-mouthed and too shocked to reply. He chuckled at you. “Try it on, in etail.”
Namor politely turned around, silently trying to hide and bury the way he felt when he heard fabric shifting and the likely assumption of you undressing.
Your breath hitched as the feeling of the fabric against your skin was a comfortable one. It was perfectly tailored and made for you, as if someone had memorized every inch of your body down to the smallest details, the robes fitting like a glove on your body.
“You can look now…” You managed to practically croak out, forever feeling thankful at such a kind gesture from no one other than Namor himself.
The moment Namor turned around, he swore that he felt slightly lightheaded from how you managed to take his breath away with just your look. You looked like you were in your natural element, your most natural state.
It almost felt as if this was how you were supposed to be.
The way the gold-woven fabric hung off your own copper skin had him thinking of thoughts he swore he would never have of surface-dwellers, and perhaps the most euphoric feeling was seeing the look on your face; the genuine joy and happiness.
But wait, something was missing.
He narrowed his eyes at you before rummaging through the bag he carried with him. Namor gently brought out familiar looking jewelry, though with its own twist.
“These… are also for you.”
Namor took your hand and placed it in his, slipping on a rather detailed and delicately made golden ring. He took both of your wrists and placed on them gold bracelets adorned with what appeared to be a jade material.
All the while, he made direct eye contact with you. You practically shook under his gaze, deeming it to be too intimate.
Before you could process anything more, you felt the heat of Namor’s body behind your back, as you heard gold clinking together. His hot breath fanned on the back of your neck, as the heat in your ears never seemed to go away.
You felt a heavy weighted necklace be placed onto your collarbone, before a click behind you was resounded. Namor’s hands lingered for a split second on the nape of your neck, before he practically ripped himself away and stood back, afraid of his own actions.
Your breath left your body for what felt like the nth time in the past 30 minutes, as you took the necklace between your fingers and observed the intricate designs of gold and jade beautifully fused together.
All of this jewelry should have felt heavy, but to you they felt as if they were perfectly crafted and made for you and your people. It was as if these were all made with heavy and careful detail, making sure that they perfectly aligned with your own practices but still with its own twist and charm from the gifter.
You could never take back what the Spaniards have taken from your country, but it felt like a lost piece of your own heritage was being directly gifted to you, you could practically feel the pride of your ancestors. This was all so overwhelming.
“K'uk'ulkan…”
Namor suppressed the heat he felt as his natural name rolled off your tongue in such a breathless manner.
Now, it was your turn to surprise as he did not anticipate that you would tackle him in a hug. You buried your face in his neck, not scared anymore of what he’d do. Namor’s own hands hesitantly placed themselves on your backside, before they tightened around you.
“Salamat… Salamat talaga, K'uk'ulkan…” Namor felt hot wet tears drip onto his shoulder.
He hugged back even tighter.
“Mixba’al, in etail.”
__________
BONUS:
“Okay, now ‘putangina mo’ means I like you.” You said to Namor, though the way you tried to (and failed) to hold back your laughter made him doubt that that was the meaning of the phrase.
“Is it really now?” You laughed, nodding profusely. “Hell yeah it is! We Pinoys use it all the time to compliment each other! Like, ‘putangina mo tol, ang guwapo mo nakakabakla ka na!’ ”
“ ‘Nakakabakla’?” Namor narrowed his eyes at you. Were you just messing with him? You laughed even more, clutching your sides by how much it hurt.
“Gaga, uto-uto ka talaga.”
Namor had a deep feeling in his stomach that you were insulting him (he was right) so he stood up and sighed, walking back towards the sea.
“What the-! Hey! Where are you going?!”
“K'a' ak'ate.”
“Aw c’mon K'uk'ulkan! Can’t you take a joke?!”
He was already gone by the time you had said that.